the laws of the universe
by the-mighty-pen325
Summary: Betty Ross has never been one to sit idly by while the world changes around her; Bruce Banner or no Bruce Banner, it's high time she take control of her life. (Or, the one where Betty meets Pepper Potts, works at Stark Industries, and isn't ignored by the MCU.) Movie-based.
1. Chapter 1: the Law of Action

**Author's Note:** So to be clear, this chapter covers post-Incredible Hulk, Iron Man 2, and the end of this chapter is about to bring in another Marvel movie/some very familiar faces :)

* * *

I defy the stars;

I defy Heaven and Hell.

The laws of the universe say that the man I love is lost to me.

I say:

Watch me save him.

* * *

 **CHAPTER 1: the Law of Action**

* * *

There are a few things that Betty Ross knows to be irrevocably true.

Fact: a body in motion will remain in motion unless acted upon by an outside force.

Fact: DNA is made up of adenine, guanine, cytosine, and thymine, and the same chemicals repeat themselves in all other things.

Fact: her father is a manipulative asshole.

Fact: she has always been very, very bad at letting go of things lost to her.

So when Bruce vanishes again-poof, just like that-Betty does not fade meekly into the background, content to wait for him to reappear.

No, she takes her anger, her frustration, and her love and does what she should have originally done with the same feelings, years before. She will put herself out of the General's reach and make it so that it will be Bruce that finds her, the next time, instead of the other way around.

First and foremost, she says goodbye to Culver. She'll miss her students, and Leonard, and her favorite pizza place, but she can't stay here anymore. For starters, there are videos floating around _everywhere_ of her and the Hulk, and it's hard to teach a class with people pressed up against the windows, eager to get a peek at "that lady in the trench coat; I mean, did you see her _deck_ that one soldier?" But it's more than that; Culver is where she met Bruce, where they'd had their first date, their first kiss, their first fight. Those memories follow her around like ghosts, shimmery through the spread of time but always, always present. She stares hard at every man wearing a baseball cap pulled down far, as if enough wishing will turn him into Bruce.

It's not healthy and frankly, a little maddening when they all turn out to be no more than tourists.

Secondly, she says goodbye to Virginia in general. Nana passed away a little while back, Mama's been gone for years, and the General...well, there's hardly a reason to stay.

So she puts out job applications at universities and labs all over the country, praying like she hasn't in _years_ that someone unaffiliated with the US Government will come calling.

* * *

After months of waiting, after rejection after rejection after rejection, her prayers are answered by a phone call from a private number.

That gives her pause; though she's cut ties with the General, Betty is under no illusions to the lengths he will go to keep her under his thumb, at least in some capacity.

"Hello?" She says tentatively.

"Hello, I'd like to speak to Dr. Elizabeth Ross, please," comes a professional voice.

"This is she," Betty answers.

"Oh, good. Dr. Ross, I wanted to speak to you about the application you sent into us at Stark Industries."

Betty cringes; it had been a long shot at best. Stark Industries is known for their innovations in all things technological, along with their flamboyant and supposed superhero CEO. Her degree in cellular biology is out of place amongst engineers, architects, and weapons designers. But there's no company-or name, come to think of it-that pisses the General off more, and after Stark Industries had ended their contract with the Army, Betty is fairly certain there could be no company less likely to sell her out to her father.

"Dr. Ross?" The voice jars her out of her musings and Betty flushes.

"I'm sorry, could you say that again?"

"I was wondering when would be the most convenient time to meet with you to discuss salaries," the voice says. "I understand you're still in Virginia, but we would be more than willing to send one of the jets if you'd like to come to New York. Or we could meet somewhere in the middle; I'm really not picky."

The world spins, once, twice.

"I-what?"

"I'd like to offer you a job, Dr. Ross," there's a note of amusement, now, but not scorn. "At Stark Industries we pride ourselves on working with the best minds in the country, and I'd hazard a guess that yours is among that number."

"But-what would I even _do_?" Betty asks, mind reeling. "I'm hardly qualified to build a-a superhero suit or help manufacture futuristic _weapons_ -"

"I think we've got both of those covered," the voice interrupts, sounding less than cordial for the first time, "a little too well, in fact."

"...alright. I...I could come to New York any time this week."

"Perfect. Is tomorrow too soon?"

Betty looks around the room; her things are all packed, ready for whatever direction she goes in.

"Not at all."

* * *

The plane is sleek and black and opulent in a way that Nana would have approved of, but that would have made the General grumble and huff about rich heirs and spoiled heiresses sticking their noses where they don't belong.

Betty, however, thinks the plane's just fine, especially when she's given tea and asked half a dozen times if the temperature's alright, if there's anything else she needs.

She's not quite sure _why_ Stark Industries is so interested in her; by all accounts, there's no need for them to dabble in the more biological side of things; but she can hardly complain with how abysmally bad the job search is going otherwise.

(That's the issue of being seen all over television in the midst of the destruction of Harlem; no one wants to hire anyone who had anything to do with the Hulk.)

She's not quite sure _what_ to expect when she steps off the plane, but a serene strawberry blonde all in white is very low on the list.

"Dr. Ross?" She asks, extending her hand. "I'm Pepper Potts, CEO of Stark Industries."

"It's nice to meet you," she manages, hoping her confusion isn't plain on her face.

It must be, or this Pepper Potts is exceptionally good at reading people, because she smiles and says, "We've had a bit of change with management recently. I hope that's not a problem."

"No, not at all," and it's not, really. It's more mystery than anything, and Betty's nothing if not curious.

Pepper Potts, as it turns out, is as efficient as she is professional. Betty is being considered for a sub-set of their science division, a new branch the company is looking to develop focusing on applications in biotechnology.

"As you may know, we've become somewhat of a front-runner in robotics," Pepper explains as she leads Betty through the incredibly extensive lab, "and with our departure from the weapons industry, there's a big hole to fill as far as production goes."

"And what are you looking to fill it with?" Betty asks.

Pepper stops, turning slightly to offer Betty a small smile. "Stark Industries has provided enough things to help hurt people. It's time we make things that can help heal them instead."

The Hippocratic Oath floats back to her, suddenly, though she hasn't practiced medicine in years and is far from ready to stitch anyone up again. But helping design technology that can help people, keep them healthy and strong? She's seen what war does, even when it's inside one person, one family. Someone has to fight the good fight, if the traditional "good guys" won't.

Yeah, that's something she's interested in.

"So," she says, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, "when do we start?"

* * *

She's just settled into her tiny but exquisitely clean Manhattan apartment that Ms. Potts-"Please, call me Pepper, you have no idea how happy I am to have another woman around here"-helped her find when it arrives.

Leonard must have forwarded it to her, because she just signed her lease the day before, but that doesn't stop it from appearing, innocuous and innocent-looking along with the rest of her mail.

It's a white envelope, like any other. Addressed like any other. Stamped like any other.

The difference, of course, is its source; she'd know Bruce Banner's cramped, spidery writing anywhere.

She has to sit down before she opens it; sit down and put her head between her knees to keep from screaming and making her new neighbors think that Bertha Rochester had moved next door.

With a trembling hand, she opens it.

"Oh," she gasps, when she sees what's inside. "Oh, _Bruce_."

It's her mother's necklace. They'd pawned because they'd had to; Betty hadn't regretted it for a second, Mama would have _adored_ Bruce, and besides, it was hers to decide what to do with, how to use its value.

The fact that he'd found it and returned it to her...oh, it makes her heart _ache_ with how much she loves this man.

There's a short letter as well. She has to wipe the tears from her glasses three times before she can even open it, let alone read it.

 _Dear Betty,_

 _I know-_

 _I'm sorry-_

 _I had to get this back to you. I know how much she meant to you, and I couldn't bear the thought of you giving this last bit of her up. Not like that. Not for me._

 _I'm somewhere safe now, out of the General's reach. I hope you are, too._

 _I'm learning to control him, Betty. Or trying to, anyways. Some days it's easier, other days it's not. Like all things._

 _I can't give you an address to write to; they're probably tracking your mail and I'll move again before you read this. But you should know that I'm thinking of you. Always._

 _There's so many things I wish were different. But one thing that doesn't change is this: be happy, Betty. Please. You deserve that. You deserve more than that (even if I'm not the one to give it to you)._

 _I miss you. I snuck your lip gloss into my back pocket and sometimes the smell of it is the only thing that keeps me sane. Though thinking about it now, that doesn't sound too stable._

 _I hope-_

 _I wish-_

 _I can't promise that I'll ever see you again, but God, I hope I get to._

 _I love you._

 _Bruce_

She puts the necklace around her neck and locks the letter away in the nightstand. Some things just hurt too much to deal with every day; this is one of them.

* * *

The first time she meets Tony Stark, it's entirely by accident.

She's in the lab, later than usual, intent on working out the issue with the latest proposed invention-biorobotics are still more science fiction than true science, but then again, so were superheroes, super soldiers, and giant green rage monsters. If the latter could exist, why couldn't the former?

Betty is so focused on the whirling vials that she almost misses the muttered cursing drifting down the hall. In fact, she's sure she would have missed it entirely, if not for the sudden coppery smell of blood accompanying it. Startled, Betty sits up, leaning away from her work station. The lab is deserted as far as she can see, and while there may be some stragglers down in R&D, it's unlikely that one of them would have cut themselves on anything other than a slip of paper.

"Hello?" She calls. "Anyone there?"

The cursing grows louder and she follows the sound, rounding the corner as quickly as she can.

"It's after hours," a voice says, sounding slightly pinched, "if you're trying to get overtime, it won't work. We're notoriously tight with our money around here."

Betty rolls her eyes; from day one Stark Industries has been entirely too generous with her, and she knows for a fact the company has one of the highest employee satisfaction rates in the entire country.

"I beg to differ," she says, finally finding the source of the voice: Tony Stark, in the flesh. "Are you bleeding, Mr. Stark?"

"No. Maybe. A little."

She steps closer, looking him over. "...judging by the fact that you're not alarmed by the glowing cylinder in the middle of your chest, I'm going to guess that's supposed to be there?"

"If I want to keep the shrapnel out of my heart, it kinda has to be, yeah," he snarks, dark eyes flicking up to meet hers. "You're the new doc Pepper hired. Elizabeth something?"

"Betty," she answers. "Betty Ross."

She's not prepared for his reaction; his face morphs from carefully controlled mocking to open mouthed shock. "Dr. Betty Ross? As in the author of _Biology and Technology: the Human Machine_? Daughter of General 'Great-Big-Bag-of-Dicks' Ross?"

"Guilty as charged," she admits, frowning at the strange black discoloration of the veins around metal _thing_ in his chest. "That doesn't look normal."

"I think you'll find normal's not something I've ever really been good at," he says. "Ridiculously charming, sure, devilishly handsome, of course, but normal...well, we've had a bit of strained relationship, normal and I."

Betty doesn't think she's ever met a man-no, a human-who talks as much and as quickly as Tony Stark.

"It's poisoning you," she concludes, peering closer at the contraption in his chest, the dark veins around it, the strain of the tissue, fighting against something taking up their rightful space. "Whatever is in there isn't helping you anymore, Mr. Stark."

"Figured that out myself, thanks," he groans. "And I think my being shirtless and fanboying over your thesis for the past six years kinda removes the need for formality. I'm Tony."

She shakes his offered hand, smiling just a little. "Betty. Nice to meet you."

"Likewise." Tony nods towards where his shirt had been clearly abandoned and Betty passes it to him, still frowning absentmindedly at the obvious sickness before her.

"Is that why Pepper is CEO?" She asks abruptly, puzzle pieces fitting together in her mind.

Tony eyes her, clearly taken aback. "Pepper is CEO because she damn well should be."

 _There it is_ , Betty thinks, another puzzle clicking together. Pepper always talks about Tony with a thread of exasperation in her voice-who could blame her-but with an undercurrent of deep, deep affection as well. That same feeling is as plain on Tony Stark's face as it is in his CEO's voice and the realization is there, clear as day: they're in love with each other, whether they know it or not.

"You'll find no argument from me on that point," Betty concedes, holding up her hands in a placating gesture. "But...Tony, does she know?"

"Know that she makes a better CEO than I ever did?" He snorts a laugh, deflecting, deflecting, deflecting. "I would think so."

She narrows her eyes at him in her sternest professor stance. "Does she know that you're _dying_?"

Dark eyes stare into hers, pain and anger and sorrow clear in them. "No. And she can't."

Betty's seen eyes like his before. In her father, after Mama died. In Bruce, after failed formula after failed formula. This is the man on the edge of self-destruction.

And she'll be damned if she watches him burn.

Squaring her shoulders, Betty holds her hand out to Tony. "I'm going to help you. I don't know how, but even for Iron Man poison is poison and blood is blood. And those are two things I do know how to work with."

A smile slowly appears on his face. "I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship, Dr. Ross."

* * *

She manages to come up with a halfway decent suppressant for the poison. Betty doesn't have the resources for an antidote, but she _can_ slow the spread of it and lessen its effects.

The blackness of Tony's veins fade to a still-troubling purple. He swears he can breathe easier-"Though how I manage it with a knockout like you around should never fail to amaze"-and that he feels infinitely better.

Almost brand new.

Still, this success isn't enough to keep her from wanting to absolutely murder him at his own birthday party.

Drunkenness Betty can abide by, but abject recklessness? Almost injuring his guests and himself? Hurting _Pepper_?

It's enough to make her want to strangle him herself, newfound friendship be damned.

In fact, if not for the arrival of his military friend-Lieutenant Colonel James Rhodes, who prefers Rhodey, according to a slightly teary Pepper-she thinks she might have.

Hell, she's not entirely certain he wouldn't have done himself in, without Rhodey subduing him. The thought of it makes her heart clench; Betty's never had a problem making friends, but finding people she truly cared for was always a bit more of a stretch. And she does care about Tony Stark; arrogance and playboy slickness aside, there's something good in him, something earnest and strong and brave that reminds her of Bruce.

If nothing else, Pepper is her friend and deserves to be treated better by the man she loves, especially when he's more than capable of it.

(She doesn't trust Tony's new assistant, Natalie Rushman, as far as she could throw her. She's...too polished, too smooth, too poised to be real. Betty's spent plenty of time in the company of liars, and this woman has _false_ written all over her like a brand.)

* * *

What feels like years later, she's watching the TV in abject horror as a veritable army of robots attack Tony and Rhodey with vicious precision. Pepper's not answering the phone, Natalie and Happy have vanished, and all Betty can do is...wait.

Sometimes it feels like that's all she's ever done.

* * *

"Dr. Ross," comes JARVIS's congenial voice, "Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts have returned. They are in the medical bay at the moment. Shall I tell them to expect you?"

She's already down the hall before the AI can finish speaking.

Pepper is standing sentinel at Tony's shoulder when she arrives, the suppressant clutched in her fist and a litany of curses whirling on her tongue. Rhodey steps between her and Tony-which he has valid reason to do, as she probably looks on the verge of _homicide_ -hands coming up to hold her shoulders gently.

"Hey, easy, easy. The man's almost died three times today."

Betty grits her teeth in frustration. "And if you don't let me inject what's in this vial into his stupid, reckless arm _right now_ , it's going to be a fourth."

Rhodey blinks. Processes that.

Pepper goes stiff behind him, turning to look at Tony with wide eyes.

"Tony, what is Betty talking about?"

Groaning, Tony covers his eyes with his hand. "Dammit, Ross, I was almost off scot free."

* * *

"You were _dying_?!"

"Er...just a little, but it's all fixed now, I synthesized a thing my dad had a secret blueprint for, so no more poisoning for me, yay! Whole new arc reactor right here, baby. And speaking of secrets, did you know my assistant is actually a Russian super assassin brought in by SHIELD? Clearly the hiring department has gotten a little lax on those background checks-

"You were _dying,_ Tony-"

"Were, as in past tense-Betty made this thing, an antidote-"

"You know _damn_ well it wasn't an antidote. It was a suppressant, a steroid of sorts, not a cure."

"Tony, I _asked_ you if something was wrong, I asked on multiple fucking occasions-"

"Aw, Rhodey, don't be mad-"

"Don't be mad?! You were practically a walking _corpse_ , Tony! We could have lost you at any moment-"

"Hey, yell at Betty, too! She's known for forever-"

"A month, at most; I'm so sorry, Pepper, I didn't know how to tell you-"

"It's not your fault, you were just trying to help-"

" **I** was just trying to help, too!"

Pepper, Rhodey, and Betty say, in unison, "Shut up, Tony."

* * *

The new normal is strange for a while, like any change is.

Pepper and Tony together are not much different than they are apart, if maybe a little gentler with each other and certainly happier. It's nice, to see them so happy; Pepper certainly deserves it and there's no doubting Tony _needs_ it, the small slice of peace being with her brings him.

It hurts just a little, too. Pepper's been Betty's one constant since she joined Stark Industries. Tony is the only person who's ever memorized an entire book on biotechnological principles in one night just to be able to debate her on things. And while they're both still her friends, there's no missing their interlocked hands under the table, or the incredibly tender looks Tony directs Pepper's way when he thinks she's not watching. Seeing them together is right, but it also..stings, because Betty doesn't have that for herself.

Not anymore.

Maybe never again.

Pepper, observant and kind as she is, picks up on it first.

Betty can only kick herself for being so obvious when Pepper turns up at her apartment one night, a bag slung over her shoulder.

"Girls' night," she declares, offering Betty a smile when she tries to protest. "Tony knows perfectly well how to get along without me."

"Pepper, this isn't necessary-"

Pepper ignores her, producing two bottles of wine from the depths of her bag. "Red or white?"

Admitting defeat (and maybe that a girls' night was just a little bit necessary), Betty sighs. "Red, please."

And if she ends up crying over the movie- _13 Going on 30_ , Pepper really _does_ know her-more than she usually would, Pepper's good enough not to say anything about it.

* * *

Two weeks later, she's in the middle of reading over the newest reports from the nanotechnology department, when Tony's voice interrupts her thoughts.

"Betty, are you busy?"

"For you, never," she teases, looking up to give him a smile; Tony is, in many ways, like the smarmy, incredibly rich older brother she'd never known she wanted.

The man beside him, however, is a surprising sight.

"Agent Coulson," she says warmly, seeing Tony's eyes widen out of the corner of her eye, "it's nice to see you again."

"Dr. Ross," he answers, shaking her hand. "A pleasure, as always."

Tony's eyes are flicking back and forth, his brain nearly audibly working to make the connection between them.

"My father's no fan of SHIELD," Betty says before Tony injures himself, "Agent Coulson and I have spent a lot of time together trying to reclaim the Gamma Project."

"Still a work in progress," Coulson agrees. "The research is ours now, thanks to you, but General Ross still has leeway to continue his...search for Dr. Banner."

Her heart lurches, the way it always does when she thinks about Bruce, about where he could be in the world, if he was safe and warm and healthy-

"I'm may _just_ be a genius, playboy, philanthropist and not a lawyer, but that doesn't sound exactly legal," Tony interjects. "Dr. Banner is a person, not a science experiment."

Betty laughs harshly. "Good luck convincing my father of that." She turns to Agent Coulson, eyeing him carefully. "But I doubt that's why you're here to talk to me."

He smiles, slightly, controlled in his facial expressions as he is in everything else. "SHIELD has a sample we'd like for you to take a look at."

"And as I'm a consultant for SHIELD, I also get to look at the mysterious, top secret sample," Tony says, almost bouncing on the balls of his feet. "The perks of being Tony Stark never end."

Betty and Coulson exchange an exasperated expression.

"What sample, Agent?"

The sample is not near as exciting as the build up to it: it's a vial of blood, still warm from the high-tech briefcase Coulson brought it here in. Betty handles it carefully, conscious of both pairs of eyes watching her every move.

"Staring at me isn't going to make the results happen faster," she says, smiling slightly when Tony jumps guiltily and Coulson's eyes dart away. "It's going to take at least a day at best."

"What did I hire you for, again?" Tony teases. He winces when she pinches his arm and Coulson watches them with a bemused expression on his face.

"You didn't," Betty answers, "Pepper did."

"Ah, Ms. Potts," Agent Coulson says. "Will we be visiting her today?"

"A great idea," she adds, despite Tony scowling in the background. "Go on, now, shoo. I'll call when the results are ready."

Tony shoots her a very impolite hand gesture when Coulson's back is turned.

She waggles her fingers at him cheerily as the doors of the elevator close behind them. Turning back to the now spinning vial, she leans closer, peering closely at it. "Now," she says to herself, "let's see what all of the fuss is about."


	2. Chapter 2: the Law of Cause and Effect

**Author's Note:** So sorry this took so long to update y'all! It's already published in its entirety over on AO3, so I forgot to add the next chapter over here.

Anyways, onward!

* * *

 **CHAPTER 2: the Law of Cause and Effect**

* * *

Betty calls Coulson roughly 24 hours later, still staring at the results in disbelief.

"Coulson."

"Phil," she says, "where the _Hell_ did you get this?"

"Would you believe New Mexico?"

"It...it's not _human_ ," she says. "Why do you have _alien blood_ -"

"That's a question for an old friend of yours, actually," is the response. "It would seem Dr. Foster's in a stickier situation than we originally thought."

"Dr. Fost-Jane? Jane Foster?"

Tiny Jane Foster had whirled into Culver a couple years back, a ball of energy and enthusiasm about the much neglected astrophysics program. Betty had liked her immediately, and they'd bonded quickly over a number of things, not least among them being two of five women in the school's STEM department.

The last she'd heard, Jane was out West doing a sabbatical. Which, if this...blood came from where Coulson said, would explain how Betty's friend was tied up with aliens.

 _Oh, Jane,_ Betty thinks, _always reaching for the stars, never thinking they were going to reach back._

"Thank you for your help, Dr. Ross," Coulson's voice pulls her from her reverie, "someone will come to collect the sample within the next day or two."

"Wait, Phil, is Jane in some sort of troub-" The line goes dead before she can finish her question.

Betty is reminded how much she dislikes anything funded by the US Government.

* * *

drelizabethross: Jane, are you in New Mexico?

drjanefoster: Betty, hi! Yes, it's beautiful here, love the food and the sky at night is just amazing! How are you? I heard you left Culver!

drelizabethross: I work at Stark Industries now. Listen, have you been contacted by SHIELD?

drjanefoster: Stark Industries, that's great! What's Tony Stark like? Is he actually Iron Man? My intern says she heard it's all an elaborate ruse and the suit is really just a suit-

drelizabethross: Jane…

drjanefoster: Okay, yes, but it's fine, the situation is under control!

drelizabethross: Jane.

drjanefoster: ...ok not fine. Or under control. But it will be. They can't just take my research because Thor-

drelizabethross: Who's Thor? What have you gotten yourself into?

drjanefoster: A mess, per usual.

drelizabethross: Can I help?

drjanefoster: Not unless you know how to break into a secret government facility?

drelizabethross: I'm a bit rusty with my lock-picking skills, unfortunately. But Jane, stay safe, okay? SHIELD is better than my father, but they're still incredibly influential.

drjanefoster: I'm always safe! Mostly. Hold on, I think someone is at the door-oh, Thor's back! And with Erik-I've got to go Betty, I'll call you soon!

drelizabethross: Jane wait-

 _drjanefoster has gone offline_

* * *

It's been 3 weeks since Jane's last, slightly ominous message and Betty is nearly out of her mind with worry. The only thing keeping her sane and not flying to New Mexico (Tony had offered, which Pepper had shortly after forbidden), is the sudden appearance of yet another visit from SHIELD.

But this time it's not Phil Coulson's familiar, if impassive, self; no, this must be something significantly more important, as none other than Nick Fury himself walks into her lab, flanked by a frowning Tony.

"As I recall, Dr. Ross is an employee of Stark Industries," he's complaining as they come closer, "and as I'm not a part of the Top Secret Team I'm Not Supposed To Talk About, I don't know how comfortable I feel with SHIELD continuously using my employee for free labor-"

"I don't recall saying I gave a damn about your comfort, Stark," Fury retorts, toeing the thin line between blunt honesty and outright rudeness as only he can. "And Dr. Ross can refuse to see me as much as any person, because I am visiting because of a _personal matter_ that has nothing to do with her being your employee."

Intrigued, Betty finally lifts her head to acknowledge their presence. "Director Fury, Tony. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Tony gawks at her for a moment before letting out a stream of words that can only be described as a squawk, "You _know_ who this is?"

"It's hard to forget one of the only men who could ever cow my father," Betty says, lifting the goggles off of her eyes. "Is he giving you trouble, Director?"

"Your father remains as much of a pain in my ass as ever," Fury says. "Even worse now that he's being considered for Secretary of State."

The blood roaring in Betty's ears is so loud that she barely even registers Tony's scoff of disbelief. Her father...as Secretary of State?

"Oh, God," she says, sinking down into her chair. "Oh, _God_."

"What?" Tony asks, at her side almost instantaneously. "Betty, why aren't you breathing, Fury, yell at her, get her to breathe-"

"I think she's thinking of the consequences of her father being the one in charge of the protection and regulation of US assets in foreign countries. Namely a certain scientist that he believes to be a pretty damn big one."

"Fuck," she says once, softly, and then again, harder, harsher, angry- " _Fuck."_

Tony's eyebrows edge up into his hairline. "You don't curse. You never curse beyond the occasional 'asshole', and usually only when I deserve it. Which, granted, is fairly often, but-"

"She deserves to damn well curse if she wants to, Stark," Fury interrupts, "God knows I did when I heard."

Betty bends, putting her head between her knees and counting backwards from ten. Tony's hand is warm and comforting between her shoulderblades, and Director Fury's presence is as steady as a rock, allowing her to focus on something else besides the rising panic in her chest.

The General already has too much power as it is, but as Secretary of State he'd be the fourth most powerful man in the country. He'd interact with the President and Vice President almost _daily_ , and if they were inclined to like him, Betty sincerely doubts anywhere Bruce could be hiding will be safe for long. SHIELD was just the tip of the iceberg; the CIA, the FBI, any of them could be dispatched at a moment's notice and there's no way to _warn_ him, nothing she can do to protect him because she doesn't have the slightest idea where he could be. It's like the world's worst game of hide and seek, with Bruce in a blindfold and the General with night vision goggles.

"Betty?" Tony asks after a few minutes. "Cough if you can hear me. Or scream, if that'll help more. Pretty sure I still have a bottle of whiskey hidden down here somewhere. Shots on me, Ross, and a day off and a trip to the spa and a free shopping trip-you like shopping, right? Pepper and you have gone shopping before, she said you had fun-"

"Tony," Betty interrupts, finally lifting her head. "Please shut up."

"Right," he says, "shutting up."

Director Fury gives a low whistle. "If you ever want a job with SHIELD, Dr. Ross, just say the word. The list of people who can get this man to stop talking is pretty damn short."

She cracks a smile at that, the tightness in her chest lessening just enough that she can sit up. "Stark Industries would be a pretty tough act to beat, sir," she says, patting Tony's arm. "I think I'll stay where I'm at, for now."

Director Fury nods, but Betty gets the sense that that particular offer will make a reappearance at a later date. "Understandable. And I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but I thought you'd want to know before the major media outlets caught wind of it. Get ahead of the curve."

"I appreciate it," she says. "Truly."

He offers her another nod, turning and striding back out of the lab without another word.

"I don't know if he's actually good at dramatic exits or if it's the eye-patch that makes them so dramatic," Tony says.

"It's both," she says sagely, rubbing her forehead. "And the fact that he doesn't want me to have realized that I owe him a favor now."

Tony eyes her speculatively. "So you picked up on that, too."

"Nick Fury never does anything without a reason behind it," Betty says. "And he'll show his hand no sooner and no later than he wants to."

"Mm," Tony agrees. "He's an ominous, eye-patched rain cloud on the best of days. But for now, I'm starving and you've just had a father-related meltdown-I'm very familiar with the experience, trust me-and so we're going to go collect my beautiful, likely annoyed with me girlfriend and go get some lunch. Shawarma okay with you? There's this place on 51st that I've been dying to try but Rhodey always complains about me wanting ethnic food and then never actually eating it-"

"Tony," she interrupts gently, standing to loop her arm through his, "shut up."

"Shutting up."

* * *

She finally, _finally_ hears from Jane on her day off a week later, curled in her most comfortable armchair with her laptop firmly ensconced on the coffee table when the younger scientist's face suddenly appears on the screen.

"Betty?" Asks Jane. "Are you there?"

Sighing with relief, she leans closer to the computer and offers her a wide smile. "Here! And so glad to see you're in one piece, I haven't heard from you in _weeks_ -"

"I know, I know," Jane interrupts, looking guilty. "There's just been…a _lot_ happening."

"Mm," Betty hums. "Perhaps you'd like to tell me why SHIELD had me examine a vial of alien blood?"

"Oh. That."

"Yes. That."

"It's a long story, Betty, really-"

"Luckily, today is my day off and as everyone I know in New York is currently at work, I have nothing else to do."

"...fine. But you're definitely going to want to stay sitting for this one."

Jane's work in New Mexico had apparently gone extraordinarily well.

("Or extraordinarily _weird_ ," pipes in Jane's assistant, a poli-sci student that Betty is pretty sure dozed her way through her Intro to Biology class not three years ago.)

Not only had they-Jane, Darcy, and Dr. Selvig-been able to find the source of the astronomical anomalies, but they'd also found Thor.

"Thor," Betty repeats. "As in the Norse god of Thunder."

"Well, less Norse, more...Asgardian," Jane says. "It's a planet. A realm? I'm not sure, Thor was a little vague on details, but there's nine of them, including us-we're Midgard, by the way, and incredibly behind compared to the technology Thor is used to, which is _completely_ unsurprising if you ask me-"

"Are you telling me," Betty interrupts, "that I examined blood from an...alien deity?"

"Prince," Jane says, as if this is all normal and not totally, completely _insane_. "Thor's a prince of Asgard, not a god. I don't think. Maybe both?"

"He's hot enough to be a god," Darcy mutters, earning an outraged look from Jane.

"You always did have a thing for tall blondes," Betty says, smiling as Jane flushes. "The biology should be compatible enough, by the way, going by his blood sample."

"Ew, I don't want to think about their...biologies mixing," Darcy groans.

"Darcy!" Jane squeaks. "We didn't-we just _kissed_ , it's not like-"

"Hey, you don't know what his weird Asgardian biology could do," Darcy interrupts. "Dr. Ross, could she get pregnant from kissing? Is there a risk for some kind of insemination by proxy, because I am waaaay too young to have a kid-"

Betty laughs even as Jane groans and hides her face in her hands.

"Darcy, this is supposed to be a _private_ conversation between Betty and I-"

"I'm just waiting til my iPod charges up, Grandma, don't get your panties in a twist."

Betty frowns a little. "Jane, I thought you said that SHIELD confiscated all of your research."

Jane's face brightens. "They did, at first, but they gave it all back! They want me to be a consultant, actually. Their technology is even more advanced than anything I've designed and I think it can help me open the portal to Asgard-"

"Why-"

"Thor had to go back, you see," Jane says, eyes darting away from Betty's. "And he said he'd come back, but he hasn't, so something must have gone wrong on his end."

Part of her, the part that still starts on the subway whenever a man with a baseball cap pulled down low over his eyes gets on, the part that hung that one, last picture of Bruce on her computer in the lab, wants to reach through the computer and hug Jane. Hug her and tell her she's making the right choice, that to fight for love is the very bravest, very best thing a person can do.

But the other part...God, she wants to build the portal herself, if only to travel to Asgard or Narnia or wherever else this mysterious demi-god is and kick his royal ass, for leaving Jane so uncertain. Betty knows what it is to be left behind, to not know if the man she loves is safe or _ever coming back_ ; she wouldn't wish that feeling on anyone, let alone sweet Jane Foster.

Jane is still looking at her, hope and determination and worry in her eyes. So Betty swallows her own frustration, her own loneliness, and reaches out to rest her hand on the screen.

"If anyone can build a portal for space travel, it's you," she says.

"I hope so," Jane says. "But thank you, all the same."

"Don't forget to tell her what Coulson said!" Darcy says, finally plucking her presumably charged iPod before flouncing outside the camera's range.

"Oh, right!" Jane says. "I almost forgot. Agent Coulson said to tell you hello and he'd be seeing you soon. Do you know what that's about?"

Sighing, Betty pinches the bridge of her nose. "No, but I suppose I'll find out sooner rather than later."

* * *

"Sooner" ends up being not two days later, when Agent Coulson turns up on her doorstep not fifteen minutes after she's gotten home from work.

"Agent," she says warily. "If you have more blood for me to examine, my apartment really isn't the place to do it."

"No blood this time," he says, stepping backwards a bit to allow her to see the sleek, dark car waiting by the curb. "Director Fury would like to speak to you, if now is a convenient time."

"Somehow I don't think I really get a say in the matter," Betty says, frowning. "But that's neither here nor there."

Coulson frowns-the first expression Betty thinks she's ever seen on his face. "Betty, no one is going to force you to come to SHIELD. Director Fury would simply like your professional scientific opinion on a very important matter."

Betty weighs this, considering. She's known both of these men for years now. They're both more honorable than her father, less inclined to lie or bend the law to when it suits them-Coulson more than Fury, but still, the older man has given her no reason to not trust him. She'll send Pepper a text to let her know where she's going, just in case. No sense in not being prepared.

"This does not mean I'm leaving Stark Industries," she says as she settles into the car beside him. "Just to be clear."

"The last person I want to make an enemy of is Pepper Potts," Coulson says, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. "And stealing you out from under her nose would certainly do that."

The rest of the drive is silent. It's no accident that they take a detour through Harlem; Betty can guess what SHIELD is going to offer her, if she helps them with whatever new mystery they present her with.

The city's still being repaired in places, with a few stores with boarded up windows and a patch of pavement that's clearly just recently been filled in. If she closes her eyes, she can still picture it: the Hulk and the Abomination, tearing each other and this neighborhood to pieces, their huge shadows blocking out the lights of the helicopters, the street lights, the moon itself.

If she concentrates enough, she can still feel the Hulk's finger brush along her cheek, can still see Bruce's eyes in the face that was his but wasn't.

"Dr. Ross?" Comes Coulson's concerned voice. "We're here."

She opens her eyes and gives him a weak smile.

Director Fury is waiting for them inside. "Dr. Ross," he says, offering her a firm handshake, "I'm glad you agreed to come."

"I owed you one, sir," she says. "What seems to be the problem?"

He waves his hands in a placating motion. "We'll get to that. I'd like for you to take a tour of our labs, if you've got the time for it."

Despite what Coulson has said about SHIELD not trying to court her away from Stark Industries, this feels suspiciously like a bribe.

"Sure," she says, in spite of herself. If what Jane says is true about the technology SHIELD possesses is true, it can hardly hurt to know where Stark Industries falls in comparison.

"Agent Romanoff will escort you," Fury says, nodding towards a familiar sight; Tony's former assistant. She's cut her hair and abandoned the secretarial attire, but there's no mistaking Natalie Rushman, who is neither an assistant nor likely named Natalie afterall.

"We've met before," the other woman says. "Good to see you again, Dr. Ross."

"I'd say likewise, but I'm not in the habit of lying," Betty snaps back, crossing her arms. "Were you working for SHIELD the entire time or just after Tony nearly died?"

"Romanoff is one of our top agents," Fury says in a stern voice, giving her a look oddly reminiscent of Pepper at her most disapproving. "And has been longer than you've worked for Tony Stark, Dr. Ross."

Betty sighs, giving both him and the two agents polite nods. "My apologies, then."

"If you'll follow me then, Dr. Ross," Agent Romanoff says.

Unwillingly, she does.

* * *

Natalie Rushman is really Natasha Romanoff, a Russian super spy with a ledger as red as her hair.

Betty may not like her, but she can appreciate the other woman's frankness at which she recognizes her dislike and deals with it, rather than attempting to change her mind. She's an excellent tour guide-descriptive but not overly so-and has the patience of a saint whenever Betty stops off to examine a station more intently, which is often.

"How did you get stuck with tour guide duty?" Betty asks, feeling a little more charitable after spending 10 minutes staring at SHIELD's incredible molecular division lab.

Agent Romanoff smiles, holding up her cell phone. "Pepper thought you might feel more comfortable with a familiar face."

Betty snorts. "You were a good friend to her, I'll admit. Minus the whole trying to simultaneously seduce and kill the love of her life thing."

"Eh, Stark's not my type. But Pepper is easy to be kind to," she says. "Easier than Stark, certainly."

"Tony has his difficult qualities," Betty concedes, "but none that merited him thinking he was going to die for three months."

Agent Romanoff gives her a strange look. "You really don't like me for that, do you?"

"People aren't playthings," Betty says. "They don't deserve to watch someone they love suffer needlessly, or think they're going to lose them when they don't have to."

The other woman is silent for a moment. "You're right," she finally says. "But sometimes missions are just missions, Dr. Ross. I was tasked with discovering if Tony Stark was suitable to join a special taskforce, and I got the answer I was looking for."

"The Tony Stark who thought he was going to die from poisoning is not the same Tony Stark building Stark Tower," Betty fires back. "Perhaps SHIELD should take that into consideration."

Agent Romanoff smiles. "You're loyal to the people you love. It's an admirable quality."

Betty blinks, slightly thrown. Tony is her friend, of course, but she's not sure if she loves him in any sort of fashion. Love is something she isn't sure she's willing to feel; fondness, yes, affection, of course, but every time she's opened herself up to loving someone, it's done nothing but hurt her. Her mother, her father, Bruce, Leonard, even Jane. No, she doesn't have the best track record when it comes to loving people or _being_ loved by people.

"Thank you," she says instead, trying not to show her internal turmoil. "I think."

The other woman nods, gesturing to the last door in front of them. "One last stop."

Director Fury is unsurprisingly waiting inside.

"Ladies, I'm glad you could join us," he says in a tone that implies he hasn't enjoyed being kept waiting.

"You did say I could tour the labs, sir," Betty reminds him. "And a scientist's pace is not always the same as a soldier's."

And Betty could be seeing things, but she thinks the corner of his mouth may twitch, just a little.

"Be that as it may, this is the true reason for your visit," he says. He steps closer to what appears to be a viewing window into yet another laboratory. "Tell me, Dr. Ross," Fury begins, "what do you know about cryopreservation?"

Betty's eyebrows raise. "It's never been achieved, at least not successfully. No one who has been cryogenically frozen has ever been resuscitated. The last attempt was in the late 1950s. Human biology just isn't supposed to go through that kind of stress and survive, Director."

"Mhm," he agrees, "and what if I told you we have someone who could survive the process?"

She recoils, almost bumping into Agents Romanoff and Coulson. "I'd tell you I want nothing to do with it. I don't care what kind of technology SHIELD possesses, or what offers you were planning on making me-"

"Dr. Ross, I'm not asking you to put someone into cryo-sleep," Fury interrupts, fixing her with a serious look. "I'm asking you to help me bring someone out of it."

She blinks, confused. "But...that's not possible. They'd have to be superhuman to withstand the stress, let alone still be considered alive after a deep freeze."

"Not superhuman, Dr. Ross," Agent Coulson says, "a super soldier."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Just so everyone's following, we've breezed through the events of the first Thor movie (Tony & Co. weren't particularly involved in that one, so it's more of an observational take) and are now hovering just before the arrival (or should I say awakening) of a certain Captain.

Also, tweaked something a bit: according to MCU canon, Jane was just a student at Culver, but I thought it'd make a bit more sense to have been Betty's fellow professor, arriving a year or so after Bruce's original transformation into the Hulk.


End file.
